Life Doesn't Play Games
by Lif61
Summary: Dean takes Jack on a hunt, and Jack grows bored so he decides to surprise Dean. Jack is taught a harsh lesson about a hunter's life.


**A/N: Had this written for about a week, but was without my laptop. Inspired by a scene from season 2 of _The Punisher_.**

**WARNING: This fic contains child abuse.**

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Dean had left Jack alone in the abandoned barn they'd been holed up in for a day or two. He'd had to track someone down for the hunt, acquire more information. Jack had wanted to come, but Dean said he might have to do an adult thing to get the information. Not understanding, but not wanting to upset his dad, he agreed to stay behind. Dean had made sure to put things in place to keep him safe: salt, a devil's trap, a rosary, holy water, goofer dust. Jack was sure it wouldn't be needed, but he knew his dad felt better for all of it.

After a couple of minutes alone Jack grew bored. He dug through his duffle bag, hoping Sam might've packed something he could entertain himself with.

There was a book, and he had his laptop, but he'd learned that he couldn't connect to the internet in the barn.

With not much else to do, Jack searched around. There wasn't anything to be found inside, but outside he found an old tennis ball that was missing the fuzzy bits on one side, but still bounced, so he occupied himself with bouncing it off the wall.

It wasn't an impressive game, and he was bored as he did it, but he had nothing else to do. Dean wasn't back yet.

How long had he been?

If Jack had his powers he would know. But it'd been a few months since…

A tear built up in his eye, and he threw the ball at the rundown barn wall extra hard. It bounced off the wood at an odd angle, and it pitched to the dusty ground before bouncing a bit more and rolling.

Maybe that was all the excitement he'd get for the day.

Jack went to retrieve the ball, and then he got an idea. He could surprise Dean!

So he waited behind one of the barn doors, not keeping himself too far from the entrance, and he had the ball ready. The Impala eventually pulled up, and there was the heavy shuffle of steps as Dean got out and came closer.

"Jack, it's just me," he called. "I got info on the vic. We should head on over to the psych ward in the hospital to—"

Jack threw the ball at him.

In an instant, Dean had his gun out, something on it flicked back, and Jack was getting grabbed and slammed to the ground.

Jack was crying out in fear, pushing against his dad, and Dean was breathing heavy. His eyes didn't calm when he saw it was just him, only grew angry.

"What were you thinking?!" he shouted at him, gun beside Jack's head.

"I-I-I—"

"I could've shot you! You think this is a game?"

Jack was shaking his head, tears building up in his eyes now, pushing at Dean, trying to get him off of him.

Dean's finger moved in the corner of Jack's vision, there was a horribly loud noise, and then his left ear was ringing. Dean was still shouting, even as Jack cried.

"You're dead!"

He squeezed the trigger again.

"Dead! Again! You wanna die?!"

Jack turned his head away, hands now weakly clinging to Dean's shoulders.

"That easy, kid. That quick. This life doesn't play games. It's rough, and it's bloody, and it can be over in a second, so you take it seriously, or you can't come out with any of us anymore. We ain't doin' this for fun. This is work, and it's dangerous. You got that?"

Jack nodded furiously, and then he started as Dean let go of the gun and pulled him into a hug, even as he knelt over his legs.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sorry. You scared me. I could've hurt you. God, you can't startle me like that again. Can't do that to any of us."

"I just-just wanted to have some fun," he replied, holding onto Dean hard.

"I know, kid. I know. I'm sorry. We'll find something fun for you to do when this is over, alright?"

He pulled back, wiping some of his tears away and feeling over his left ear that was still ringing.

"You wanted to come out here with me. You still good on that? If not, I can call Cas, have him pick you up. Sure he can take you out for ice cream or somethin'."

Jack sniffled, and willed his tears back, throat aching. He wanted to be strong, just like his dads, just like Dean.

"I'm… still good."

"Alright, well, we'll get you cleaned up, and we'll go talk to the vic."

Dean grabbed the gun, flicked the safety on, and put it in the waistband of his jeans, and then held his hand to help Jack up.

"Then what?" he asked.

"Then we're gonna hunt down a pain in the ass ghost. Sammy teach you how to fire a shotgun?"

Jack shook his head.

Dean smiled, grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.

"Think we can add some fun into that then. Don't worry, I'll teach you everything I know."

"Will you teach me to be scared of tennis balls?" Jack teased though he was still horribly shaken.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I will teach you to be scared of tennis balls."

"Dean… would you really have shot me?"

Dean sighed as he walked out to the Impala, swinging his keys in his hand. Jack followed him.

"It would've been an accident. Friendly fire's a real thing, kid. Too real. Hunters, soldiers, we've got training. The training kicks in, and we just do the job, don't realize who's on the other end sometimes till it's too late. You gotta understand — me, Sam, your father — we all got that training. It ain't pretty. People get hurt. I just don't want you to be one of 'em."

"And if I was?"

He opened the driver's side door and leaned on it, squinting as his position made him face the sun. Jack had his hand on the door handle, and felt the warm metal against his skin.

"Don't think I could ever look at myself again. Now come on, people to save, things to hunt."

Jack got in the Impala. Dean was saying something as he pulled out of the dirt and gravel drive, through the brush, and past the fields into the trees. Jack couldn't make out what he was saying, just some intonations here and there and the low grumble of his voice. But he didn't bother turning his right ear to him. He'd been near gunfire before. His hearing would come back.

If he had seriously messed up today he wouldn't be hearing at all, or smelling leather from the seats, and fresh wind as Dean rolled the windows down, or feeling the air beat against his face and whip through his hair, or tasting the sour fear and disappointment that still lingered in his mouth.

Jack wouldn't have any of it.

But he did.

So he wasn't dead.

Not yet.


End file.
